It was early fall, 1982. The forest of unseeable trees whispered all around and all down the mountain, and the wind was big and very cold, but Jason imagined himself immune to the way it sliced through his thin shirt. He stood bravely on the stone steps of the cabin, bare armed and freezing, concentrating on the gray clouds streaming across the dark sky and the moon, his coat stuffed into his duffle bag. Over the past few months, Jason had felt terribly burdened. Suffering, as if he were suffocating, or drowning. He was fifteen years old, old enough to make decisions for himself, he thought. He was waiting for his father to come get him.
